


every time a different bed.

by gavinsaleks (ohmaggies)



Series: (what's in the dark?) [1]
Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, M/M, Nostalgia, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Road Trips, Supernatural Elements, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-08-29 06:35:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16738924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmaggies/pseuds/gavinsaleks
Summary: Maybe James is right and ghosts aren't real, not in the slightest.To Aleks it wouldn't be surprising; he's been seeing a lot of things that aren't there recently. Ghosts, feelings - two things that are terrifying in equal measures..what it says on the tin.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> thank you once again to [mây](http://roccketraccoon.tumblr.com) for beta-ing this for me! i'm eternally grateful to her! i wouldn't have finished this fic (and definitely wouldn't be posting it) if it wasn't for her.
> 
> also: this fic is based off of cowchop's ghost hunting video and a song called _monsters in the dark_ by MyKey. i started this fic the moment i heard it, it's truly 👌👌👌
> 
> also also: this is the first fic in a three fic series. it's just some boys hunting ghosts and wind, and falling in love with a bunch of trouble thrown in. hope you enjoy, thanks for reading! double thanks if you've read all this so far!
> 
> \- rachel.

“Where are we going this time?”

James is looking at the map upside down, lounging in the passenger seat to Aleks’ right. He looks more comfortable than he probably is, considering it's been an eight hour journey so far with another four left, at the very least; Aleks said no to flying to avoid the hassle and because Brett insisted that it would be good for James and Aleks to spend some time together outside of work.

Aleks has learned his lesson now. You can't trust Brett to give solid advice, and James won't offer to drive despite the fact Aleks hasn't slept once in the eight hours they've been in the car. James is a pretty lousy friend for not offering to drive for a bit, but Aleks lets it slide because he's a better friend than driver.

James glances over after not getting an answer, attempting to bring up the conversation again when he says, “A bridge? A haunted law firm in Miami?”

“Some abandoned ruins,” Aleks offers, and James hums noncommittally. “Brett found it. I thought it might be good. You get to pick the next place, so go fucking nuts finding the scariest possible place you can. As long as it's not another haunted forest.”

“I liked the forest,” James shrugs.

 _It would've been good if it hadn't been eighty-three degrees_ , Aleks wants to argue. _Maybe if it hadn't been an excruciatingly hot summer in California, maybe then the forest would've been a good idea. What the fuck is so haunted about a forest, anyway? We didn't find anything and risked dehydration, and the episode had to go through too much editing just to be good enough to publish._

No more fucking forests. Not in summer. Not in California.

“It was too fuckin’ hot,” Aleks complains. “What if there was a - a spontaneous bush fire and we were trapped in your dumb forest? And we died? Our audience would make fun of us for years, even though we’re dead. What a legacy to leave behind. Burning to death in a forest that’s not haunted.”

James snorts.

“It’s not funny.”

“I’d haunt it,” James replies, and Aleks fights back an amused smile. “Then it’d be haunted. Other ghost hunters would go there to find _us_.”

Aleks fingers tighten on the steering wheel as he tries to focus his attention back on the road. He offers a laugh that sounds too strangled, says, “How the turntables.”

“It’s ‘how the tables turn,’ dumbass,” James scoffs, finally realising after five minutes that the map is upside down and flipping it upright. “And haunting a forest that wasn’t originally haunted is a darn good legacy. I’d be happy with that. My mom wouldn’t be, but I would.”

“I don’t think Brett would,” Aleks grins. “The two, and only, co-hosts of his show burning to death in a forest fire because they live in California and they were stupid enough to go there in summer. During wildfire season. And dragging their cameraman down with them. If we weren’t already dead, he’d kill us. He’d probably still try, dead or not.”

“Maybe we should haunt him, then. See how he likes it.”

Aleks casts a glance at James as he slows the car, aware of their exit ahead getting closer. Somehow, the map in James’ hand is upside down again, and in the other hand he has a Google search that Aleks makes out as ‘legitimately haunted forests in California’ open on his phone. It’s laughable, but Aleks has to look away and avoid conversation to focus on driving. The only thing worse than burning to death in one of James’ ridiculous ‘haunted’ forests would be getting into an accident on the way to a location.

The forest would be James’ fault, and Aleks could live - or, at least be okay - with that, he, however, absolutely couldn’t live with himself if he wasn’t paying attention and rolled his car. His _expensive_ car. With his best friend in the passenger seat at risk of being injured in a potential crash. They’ve never spoken about whether they’d continue the show without each other, go on by themself or find another co-host, if one of them died or quit or whatever, but Aleks finds himself thinking about it on occasion.

Like, he finds himself thinking about what James would say or do if Aleks missed their exit and kept driving. Without a plan, just driving. He probably wouldn’t notice, so Aleks merges into the left lane to get off at their exit, a close eye on the map he has up on his phone. This one is upright and easy to read, and lets him know that he has another four hours of driving before he can consider stopping for a rest; he could go for a coffee, though, and that’d only be a small stop.

“You think there’s a reason we never see anything?” James asks, as Aleks drives past a Starbucks. “Full apparitions or orbs that can’t be dust.”

“Are you a skeptic now?”

James sighs, exhausted at his own topic. He looks at Aleks, and Aleks purposefully pretends the road is very, very important despite their standstill at a red light. “Why do you even believe in ghosts this much? You’ve never fucking seen one.”

“People I know have seen them or heard them or whatever,” Aleks says, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. They should get a greenlight any second now. “A secondhand account from a friend is proof enough for me. More likely to see stuff with an open mind anyway. What would be the point of us doing this if we didn’t believe we’d get anything? That’d be a boring show, dude.”

“It’s been three years, Aleksandr,” James exhales, hand previously holding the map rubbing at one of his eyes. “I’m almost thirty.”

There’s something uncomforting about this whole situation that Aleks is choosing to ignore; if James wants to choose to not believe, that’s fine, but the whole point of looking for ghosts is _thinking_ you’ll find ghosts. Believing is a pretty valuable part of ghost hunting, even if they haven’t had any solid evidence that can’t be debunked; they’ve seen shadows that people argued was from unseen crew members, orbs that people blamed on dust, voices that people pointed out could’ve been from neighbours of the buildings.

As confident as Aleks is that some of the things they’ve captured is reliable proof, if his co-host doesn’t share the same philosophy, it feels ruined. In some way.

If James had been a skeptic from the beginning they could’ve made it work, but going on with this for three years just to suddenly say _no_ to all of this now is a kick in the face. Aleks can’t be mad because it’s James, he knows that; he also knows that the reason they don’t get anything is because James chooses bridges and forests to go to, instead of sound haunted places.

It’s sabotage, whether James knows that or not. That’s what it feels like. Choosing some random forest in California to attempt to find ghosts at when there are a dozen other places they could’ve visited and gotten what might’ve been genuine, convincing, irrefutable evidence of the existence of ghosts or something supernatural, at the very least.

Choosing a forest in California that is barely haunted is _sabotage_.

“Yeah, and we've done it together for those three years,” Aleks finds himself saying, mind torn away from thoughts of the forest. “That count for anything, James?”

“You know it does, don't fuckin’ do this.”

“Do what?”

“Do _this._  When you get all defensive and your voice gets all deep and low, and you won't look at me. I only ever did this because you asked me to, stop acting like it was any different. I wouldn't have agreed if it was anyone else, okay?”

Aleks exhales, ignores the weight of his eyelids and his fingers absentmindedly tapping a beat on the steering wheel. He should focus on driving, he knows that; it's just that it's hard to concentrate on it when James is pouting in the passenger seat, that's all.

“You can leave if you don't wanna do it,” Aleks forces out, fingers pausing to instead grip the wheel, to force himself into reality. “I’m not forcing you to stay.”

Any time in this conversation would be a good time to admit that Aleks was hoping they'd get to do this for another three years and then another and then another. Now, that knowledge sits in his chest like a stone, taunting and heavy, and filled with knowing that James has probably been tired of this for a while now. Years, maybe, while Aleks was clinging desperately to it.

James laughs then, hollow, with a hand smoothing back his hair. “You know that's not what I meant. You know _full well_ that isn't what I meant.”

“Okay,” Aleks swallows.

“Yeah, 'okay’.’’

Maybe he should've accepted that plane ticket Lindsey offered, now that he thinks about it. Road trips are hot and close, and offer a strange sort of intimacy that sitting together on a plane doesn't. It's just that they've always driven to places together, talking through the drive about random footages they’d film for upcoming episodes, and it's so natural that it'd be weird not to.

Usually, locations are only a few hours away, not the twelve they're tackling now. It's easier to get along for that short span of time, considering they leave early enough that a few stops at cafe's aren't going to put them back much in time.

Brett only told Aleks about this place last night, and had to call everyone to say the new season was a-go so they should pack and get ready. It's hard to get plane tickets that soon, though even harder to prepare yourself for a twelve hour road trip that you'll only be able to stop once or twice so you don't fall behind too much. If he and James take the right route and watch the time, they should arrive shortly after Lindsey and Brett's plane flies in.

“Hungry?” Aleks asks, choosing not to spend a moment reflecting on how awkward it feels.

“I guess,” James says, shrugging. He has his head resting against the window, eyes closed to the bright sun, and there's a loose curl that's fallen against his cheek.

Aleks considers taking one hand off the wheel to tuck it behind James’ ear, even though it wouldn't do much. James wouldn't say anything and Aleks would be left wondering exactly how to fix whatever it was that he did completely wrong. Brett probably has a list on his phone ready for when or if Aleks ever asks, ranging from 'takes too long to pick a location for filming’ to 'accidentally buttdialed Brett while complaining drunkenly to Khail about Brett.’

He wonders what James’ would be - if it'd have anything to do with insisting they drive to locations and be uncomfortable constantly, or with Aleks immediately assuming the worst.

James wouldn't quit, he wouldn't. Just because Aron did, and Anna, and Trevor, and then Asher, doesn't mean James would. It's him and Aleks, always them; it's weird to think about, them having been friends for so long, but no part of it feels wrong. It makes this all worse, if Aleks is honest. That he knows he wants to work with James for as long as life permits despite there being a chance of James wanting to leave.

Aleks lied when he said he wouldn't try to stop him. He would. He can't imagine sitting around doing nothing as James walked out and let everything they've built together collapse with him.

There's a diner and Aleks passes it, in hopes of James saying something. _Anything._  It's sickening, this silence, and how tense the air around them hangs.

Aleks tries to choose silence, the way James has, but his mouth is preparing words against his will, and his heartbeat speeds up dangerously as he says, “I don't get what's going on here.” A pause, filled with a breathy inhale. “Honestly, I don't - James, what's going on here? What are we doing?”

He sounds too desperate, he knows. It certainly doesn't help that James barely flinches beside him.

“Starving?”

Aleks’ hands tighten around the wheel, stopping at another red light as he waits. So, James doesn't want to talk about it. Aleks can do that. He absolutely can sit here for the next four hours, including wherever they stop for dinner, in complete silence. He can do that. Except he can't, and he knows he can't, and he wants to revert to his usual habit of shaking his leg but can't because he's driving. This sucks, this absolutely sucks.

“If you want to take a break from the show -”

“Aleks,” James interrupts, a warning to Aleks to not finish that train of thought. He sits up and looks at Aleks, and Aleks keeps his gaze forward as James’ eyes pull him apart.

“James,” Aleks says, choking on the word.

“My mom's asking again, if I'll settle down.” The light turns green. “Properly. I'm twenty-eight, I should probably have it all sorted out by now. But I didn't need to, because I had you, and we had this show and something to prove. I do this to hang out with you, as friends or co-hosts or whatever. Stop with the… freaking out. It's annoying.”

“You have to leave sometime. You're almost thirty.”

_'It's been three years, Aleksandr. I'm almost thirty.’_

James is, one hundred percent, going to kill Aleks.

“Yeah, you bitch. I'm almost thirty. You're not getting any younger either, you know.”

“This show is my mistress, what else do I need?” Aleks asks, pointedly meeting James’ gaze. “It's all I've got, dude. I'm cool with that.”

“You have me,” James says, and his brown eyes are brightened by the sun when Aleks glares into them. “And Brett. And Linds. And Trev. You really think you're on your own? When you have all these people who watch your -” Aleks wants to correct him, say 'our’, but he doesn't. “ - show. You've never been alone. Stop sulking and feeling sorry for yourself and pull over so we can eat.”

Aleks does. Pull over, that is. It's a small diner with a light up sign outside that only works with half the letters. It's nice, though, and Aleks is so hungry he might just eat anything that's put in front of him. It could be the worst thing in the world yet somehow never beat those chilli fries he and James had in a Pennsylvania cafe two years ago. He has nightmares about those fries; the footage of them eating them is somewhere on one of Trevor's old hard-drives, but Aleks has been too nervous to talk to him since he quit.

The show and its crew has changed so much since they started, but one thing will never change: it's James and Aleks’, through-and-through.

They had plans once, to pass it onto Trevor when James and Aleks got too old for it. But every time they've tried to assume what'll happen in the future, it all falls through. Aleks told Trevor this could be his one day, if he wanted, and Trevor quit. Then, they said maybe one day they could give it someone else and then all possible someone else's left.

It's theirs, and it's looking like it always will be.

Aleks is okay with that, even if he'd once hoped what they'd created could be carried on after they were gone. It's a joke, really. Them trying to create plans for the future when things change too much every day and planning ahead more than a few days proves impossible sometimes.

Aleks wishes it wasn't, like he wishes he wasn't sitting in this diner with James. It's nice, but it’s another reminder of things Aleks wants to forget. Sitting across from James as the waitress who gave them their menus flirts with him is another thing Aleks doesn't want to remember, either because he must look pathetic slouched in the booth like this or because they're trying to have a late lunch and Aleks isn't sure that he'll be able to keep it down now.

“Hey,” James, loud and attention grabbing. “Are you ignoring me?”

Aleks glances up, swallowing too loud. The waitress is gone, likely getting drinks after giving James her number. Aleks’ stomach twists uncomfortably, as though he's going to be sick.

“Sorry,” Aleks offers, sitting up. “I'm tired. Must've zoned out.”

“You gettin’ the fries?” James asks, eyes concerned as he peers at Aleks over the top of his menu.

“Uh, yeah. You?”

“The same.”

The silence between them is filled with the sound of the kitchen to Aleks’ right, chatter from people in nearby booths, and cars on the busy street outside. Aleks is aware how odd he and James must look sitting here, tired and unslept and with hair that is either poking up obscenely or flattened by persistent fidgeting.

Brett has always said that a road trip suits James, especially in the colder months. He wears warm layers and grows out his beard, and it suits him, the winter. Aleks can't be sure why, just that it does. Really, everything does, but Aleks isn't about to admit that at the same time James’ left pocket is harbouring a waitress’ phone number.

“You gonna call her?”

James looks up from his phone, eyebrows inching up before settling into their usual place. “Nah,” he says, flippant. “Probably not. Don't know if we'll even visit here again. On the way home maybe but… I won't call. I took her number to be polite.”

“She's cute,” Aleks shrugs, casting his attention to where she's shuffling behind the counter with another customer.

“Do _you_ want her number?” James grins, tone serious at first until Aleks can decipher the teasing tone beneath it. “You're a step down from me but, you know, slim pickings. And everyone else in this diner is at least over fifty.”

“... Fuck you,” Aleks hesitates, face warm under James’ gaze.

“You offering?”

Aleks coughs out a laugh, face brightening. “Shut up, bitch. You fucking - you stupid bitch.”

“That any way to talk to your best friend? Aleksandr, I'm wounded. Real wounded,” James places a hand over his heart and Aleks barely restrains a grin. “Ouch.”

“Why are you the worst all the time?”

“It's a gift.”

The waitress returns with their drinks and avoids eye contact the entire time. James goes to thank her, on behalf of himself and Aleks, when she turns in the opposite direction and walks as quickly as is possible on her heels. James’ expression is confused, and Aleks watches him for a moment before a laugh he was trying to smuggle escapes, drawing James’ attention back to him.

“Maybe she overheard our conversation,” Aleks provides, his laugh still splitting his lips. “For the best. Now you don't have to worry about not calling her and looking like an asshole.”

“I look like an asshole now,” James points out, and before he can continue, Aleks says, “Always do.”

James stares before reaching over to grab Aleks’ milkshake and take a sip. It's strawberry and Aleks can't remember being able to form words until after the waitress left so James more than likely ordered it for him. It's odd but natural, how small things like _this_ just happen - ordering for each other, sharing things, being able to slide back into their typical banter despite a previous tense conversation in the car.

They've been friends for long enough that Aleks doesn't look into it or try to decipher what it means. They're friends and they spend a ridiculous amount of time together, so it'd be pretty odd if they didn't know each other this well. Now that Aleks thinks about it, he can't recall anything ever being weird with James.

When they met it was all simple small talk that easily drifted into something else, and now it's been six years and they've been doing their show for three years, traveling together and spending nights passed out in whatever room a cheap motel had left. Usually a single bed; ninety nine percent of the time it's a single bed, but they don't mind.

“Maybe we could stop for the night, too. Tell Brett and Linds we're taking a detour or something,” James suggests, nervous eyes sweeping over Aleks. “We're too tired to drive, yeah?”

Footsteps approach and Aleks glances at the waitress, with her fingers delicately taking a pen from behind her ear. There's hesitance on her features as she asks what they're ordering to eat that neither of them question, and Aleks lets James do most of the talking even if it's usually the other way around.

“Aleksandr? You wanted the fries, right?”

The waitress is tapping her foot, a nervous habit or to demonstrate her impatience. Aleks takes the time to read the name sewed into her pocket; Lily.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Lily takes their menus and leaves, and James’ defeat is clear on his face.

“I’m telling my mom about this,” James sighs. “You think anyone here will know about any motels nearby? Somewhere to spend a few hours.”

“... For you and the waitress?”

“For _us_. I don't want to drive when it's dark and you've been driving for too long anyway. I'll tell Brett we had to, for you. He won't be mad. We're his boss.”

They are, they really are, but it still doesn't seem right to disregard Brett's insistence that they arrive the same time as his and Lindsey's plane. It's fair; Aleks’ aching eyes disagree, as does the small yawn he attempts to hide. James sees it anyway, now probably just more convinced that he and Aleks should find somewhere to sleep for the night.

It's dangerous sometimes, James is. He wants to get his way all the time, though it's better to refuse to give it to him. This is one of those things, those weird grey areas where it's equally as bad to give it to him as it is to not give it to him. At the end of the day, Aleks knows where he'll end up. He's so tired that continuing to drive - or forcing James to drive when he's not okay with it - is impossible.

“I could go for a nap.”

James smiles over at Aleks and the warmth of it is nice. It's special, Aleks thinks, that no one else gets James the way Aleks does. He's seen him at his worst and at his best, and he wouldn't change him in any way. Even if given the choice.

Aleks would change himself, sure, but James is _James_ and no one should be allowed to change that. He's perfectly and uniquely him, and Aleks is momentarily jealous of how easy it is for James to admit that he thinks some of what they're doing with their show is shit. Or, not real. Aleks tried to offer him an out and he refused, something about friendship and loyalty and how hard they've worked.

That's what Aleks remembers, and there's a big chance that he's wrong. He thinks he might be right about it a little, about their friendship being worth doing the show.

James says that he might not believe and that's fine. He's compulsively honest with himself, and Aleks isn't going to fault him for that. It's the not knowing how long he's been holding onto this that hurts, really. Is it a new development or has James held this philosophy since the very first day Aleks pitched the show to him?

And, if yes, why didn't he say something before now? If he didn't believe, and he forced himself to play along with Aleks, and he was only there because Aleks asked him to be. As a friend. As a co-host.

Maybe James is right and ghosts aren't real, not in the slightest.

To Aleks it wouldn't be surprising; he's been seeing a lot of things that aren't there recently. Ghosts, feelings - two things that are terrifying in equal measures.

“Two fries?” a voice says, and James kicks Aleks under the table. It's Lily, hands full, and she's staring dead straight at the table yet again instead of at them. “Does it matter whose is whose?”

“Either's okay,” James replies, in lieu of Aleks not being able to speak.

Aleks finds his voice in time to say, “I'm too hungry to care.”

Lily leaves almost as abruptly as she arrived, but likely not fast enough to not hear James’ exaggerated heavy sigh. This isn't how Aleks thought today would turn out, sitting in a diner with a bed in a random motel to look forward to. He prefers the car, honesty. He _knows_ the car, could reconstruct it from memory alone.

It feels like every time he wakes up while filming the show, it's in a different bed. There's nothing solid or secure about constant travel, so he was willing to drive for another four hours just so he didn't have to see inside another motel room that's similar enough to other motels to be familiar but not dissimilar enough that it doesn't make Aleks uncomfortable. Every motel room is like walking into the last motel room they were in but everything's been shifted an inch to the left and the walls are a slightly different shade.

Similar, in size and appearance and vibe. Foreign, in environment and cleanliness and view outside the window.

Aleks eats as many of his fries as he can, adding extra salt and a small glob of ketchup. His mouth is so dry, the food in his mouth tastes like nothing at all. It's unbelievably unpleasant, and James seems to be having the same issue, taking large sips of his drink in between bites.

On his phone, pressed to his ear, Brett is yelling. Well, not yelling exactly, but he's not happy. It was all too predictable, that he'd be unhappy with them for stopping despite the fact they - meaning _Aleks_ \- have been driving for eight hours, with another four or so left to go.

Why shouldn't they get to stop and eat, and spend a couple hundred on a room in a motel to reduce Aleks’ chances of falling asleep at the wheel?

It's the beginning of the season, anyway. If they're behind on time, they can postpone the next location for a few days and then slowly catch up. There's not even an official release date set yet, so what does it really matter? They should take their time, reduce the chances of another episode filled with behind the scenes clips like James’ shitty forest one.

“Only be for a few hours,” James tells Brett. “We're hungry, and Aleks is exhausted. And we've already stopped, it's too late to tell us no.”

The conversation draws on, until James is saying goodbye and hanging up, and stealing a ketchup covered fry from Aleks’ plate.

Aleks lets him.

“He said we can afford to stop for five hours,” James says once he's swallowed. “If we drive around for a bit, should find a motel that'll have a room. You ready to leave?”

Aleks pushes his plate towards James, who accepts it. “Yeah, I left my wallet in the car, I'll -”

“I'll get the bill, you get the car?”

Aleks nods in agreement, tiredness making his body almost too heavy to move. It's ridiculous, that he's like this now in his mid-twenties. What will it be like, when he's actually thirty and James is closer to thirty-five, and their bodies get worse and worse the more time they spend crammed in a car? Will they catch a plane with Brett, forego the extra footage that driving provides, or will one of them quit?

It's hard to think about, and all too much considering where they are. That, and what was said between them in the car before they stopped here. Aleks tried to give James an out and he didn't take it; it soothes some anxiety, though not all.

They can't do this forever. Aleks wants to. But they can't.

He retrieves his keys and slides out of the booth, leaving James to finish his plate off. Even thinking about a potential nap in a bed is more than enough for his body to take that as permission to slump uselessly, making his movements slower and more sluggish. Trips are often like this, but the end is worth it, no matter how long it takes.

By the time Aleks remembers where they parked and starts the car, James is tugging open the passenger side door and collapsing beside Aleks. He hasn't slept the whole time they've been driving so Aleks doesn't bite off a humorous comment about not understanding why James is tired. They both are, and Brett and Lindsey probably are too, and Alec too, where he is watching their office back in California.

Four more hours of driving, then they can film for a few hours, find a hotel to spend a proper night in, and sleep until midday the next day.

“There's a motel five minutes away,” James interrupts the silence. “Should have a spare room or two. We'll only need the one, right?”

“Yeah,” Aleks agrees, because they've shared a room for the three years they've done the show. It's more than obvious now that they'll share; like they'd ever consider _not_ to. “If we don't stop soon, dude, I might fall asleep here.”

James laughs, and Aleks smiles with a small wince. He wasn't kidding - this 'let's stay for some of the afternoon at a motel’ might very soon turn into 'let's just sleep in the car in the parking lot of a diner because Aleks fell asleep.’ They're both used to sleeping in odd places, whether it be the floor of some haunted building or an old bed in an old prison, or at their desks in their office when they can't keep their eyes open while editing.

Falling asleep in a car in a parking lot seems tame, compared to the places they've slept in in the past. Murder houses or old, abandoned bridges, or in a tent in that forest James wanted to go to. A parking lot is nothing when Aleks considers that it probably isn't harbouring ghosts, unlike every place they’ve slept in while filming. They could sleep in a sewer and it wouldn't compare to James’ forest or the Sallie House, or whatever fucked up place they last spent the night in.

“I can drive.”

Aleks shakes his head, “It's, what, five minutes? I got it.”

“You sure?”

“Uh, no and yes,” Aleks laughs, going to pull out of their parking space when he pauses. “... Which direction am I heading in again?”

James gets the address up on his phone and guides Aleks through three sets of red lights that make the five minute drive almost double. The motel is hard to miss, if only because it's flanked on either side by nothing. Sitting there, empty apart from a couple cars parked in front, and a danger tape surrounding the empty property on its left.

It's charming, in a horrifying, 'this place is definitely fucking haunted’ way. More haunted than James’ forest, no doubt. The sign says there's vacancy, though, and that's more than enough to convince Aleks.

“Should we grab our equipment? Or you wanna leave it here for the night?”

Aleks straightens up his parking before turning off the engine, considering James’ question. It doesn't exactly look like a trustworthy place to leave thousands of dollars worth of cameras and sound equipment sitting in a car. They'd have to come back for it once they'd gone inside and made sure there was a room vacant for them, and it'd be heavy to lug up the stairs.

Brett would tell them to, which is what makes Aleks say yes. Then suggest that they get their room first so they're not carrying all their things inside. It's not light stuff, either. It'd kill their arms to grab everything at once and then have to try and unlock their door to get it all inside.

“Solid plan,” James agrees. “I'll talk to the guy behind the desk if you wanna grab our cases. I'll come back and help in a second.”

It takes ten minutes before they can sit down, the small desk sitting in front of the bed covered in what's most expensive to replace if it gets broken. Outside the window, the vacancy sign is changed, lighting up with a small 'no’.

There was one room left when they got here and it's small, big enough for a few hours but small. And there's one bed, a single queen planted crookedly in the middle of the wall. James casts a curious glance around, eyes settling on the bathroom as if considering a shower before he sighs and falls onto the bed. They can get a hotel room in Arizona and wash before shooting, and Aleks follows suit in settling down on the bed.

It's comfortable though noisy, the springs an earache as Aleks adjusts his position so he can lie down properly. James, however, is seemingly dead to the world.

“Shit,” Aleks relaxes, limbs still adjusting to be able to properly spread out. It's different to the booth at the diner, considering he was sitting there after spending eight hours sitting in his car. “Worth the two hundred bucks?”

James doesn't hesitate when he says, “Yeah.”

It is, really. Aleks can lie down and stretch, and close his eyes against the covers of the bed. They'll do this later in Arizona at a hotel much better than this one, and they'll take turns using the shower and lie awake in the quiet until sometime too early in the morning to not already be asleep. It's a routine, the show and the driving and the being with each other every step they take. After all these years, it'd be wrong to not be together; as friends, as best friends.

Brett and Lindsey are old friends but new additions, and Aleks has adjusted to them. Just… not in the way he's adjusted to James. They've been side by side for over six years now, and hopefully another six, then forever after that. Who knows. Except, James will find someone and want to settle down so he'll quit, get married because his mom wants him to.

And Aleks…

Aleks will be on his own, just a man without a shadow to stand in. Maybe he'll try and continue the show for a few years before he figures out that it doesn't work without James, or he'll end up behind the camera of another show, or he'll move back to Russia because he's unemployed and can't stay in America. He and James won't talk, and people will ask about it when they run into him or they'll formulate theories as to why Aleks wasn't invited to James’ wedding to a woman Aleks has never met.

Thinking about it is a sensation similar to tilting back too far on your chair. Something terrifying and uncertain, and you either fall back into place or hit the ground painfully.

 _Shut up_ , Aleks tells his own brain. _Jesus fucking Christ._

If -

If James really decided to leave, got up one day and said he was done, would he stay if Aleks asked? If Aleks grabbed him and begged him not to go anywhere, would James shake him off and turn his back to him and walk out the door? Still? Even though Aleks _begged_ him not to?

He's tired of thinking about it, if he's honest.

Aleks is sick of waiting for everything to fall apart, as it inevitably will. James will leave or he won't, or the show's new season will do badly and they'll get cancelled, told to find something else that they can't fail at. The last three seasons have gotten better and better, and Aleks and James have spent close to every moment these past forty months stepping over each other, so close. Too close.

They've had some good times, most of the times are good. Laughing and joking around, pushing each other to do even better than they last did. This show is resting on their shoulders, spread across them like a plague, popping Aleks open, a champagne bottle of a man. Fizzed and explosive, and waiting to be given permission to blow up.

Lindsey knows. Aleks didn't tell her but she knew, because she's good at reading into things. Aleks didn't have to ask her not to tell anyone because she already knew not to. She's good like that.

Aleks yawns into the bed, listening to James’ quiet, stifled laughter somewhere behind him.

“How long you wanna sleep?” James asks, a hand ruffling the hair on the back of Aleks’ head.

“Two hours,” Aleks mumbles into the sheets, ignoring the anchor tied around his heart. “Will you wake me up?”

James should sleep though Aleks knows he won't, because he'll want to call his mum and change his clothes, prepare for wherever it is that they'll be arriving at later on tonight. Aleks hasn't told him what it is, the abandoned domes he read about that were supposedly home to witches and demon worshippers. It's the kind of place they visit often, nothing new or too interesting, just different.

“Will do,” James yawns, breathing deep for a moment.

Aleks allows himself a moment to shuffle and adjust, to conform to the bed and close his eyes against the cool sheets. It's odd to be attempting to sleep with someone close by sitting up, wide awake. He can hear James’ soft breathing and the quiet music playing through his phone. It's unbearably and undeniably James, but Aleks wants to tell him to rest, even if James has decided he doesn't want to.

James yawns, not bothering to muffle it. He's wearing his shoes, too lazy to bother kicking them off like Aleks, and Aleks considers shuffling closer. Not for body heat, but it'd be a nice reminder that they're here and they don't have long so they should try and enjoy it.

Before the show got too popular, back when they were slightly younger and more scared, they had more fun. Scaring each other and sleeping in haunted locations in the middle of winter, sleeping too close together just so they didn't freeze to death. They have fun now, that's undeniable, but James has mellowed in the past few years, less boisterous and more cautious.

Aleks has changed too, he knows. It's hard not to.

“Yo, do you -” Aleks tries, words silenced by the covers. He lifts his head, awkwardly positioned, and continues. “D’you remember Pennsylvania?”

James laughs, soft and fond and intimate. “Couldn't fuckin’ forget if I tried.”

Aleks wants to bring up things that happened there, at the place accurately named 'Devil's Den’, and how dark it got at night. They spent the whole episode replacing constantly draining batteries and clinging to each other in the dark so they didn't get lost, and Trevor laughed himself to tears in a diner while Aleks gagged on the food they'd ordered.

“These fries are the scariest thing in the place,” Brett had said, and James had slid down in his seat wheezing, a hand clutched around Aleks’ wrist to keep himself upright.

It's easy to miss those days.

Really, really easy.

“I’m never going there again,” Aleks groans, tired. “I'd rather return to your shitty unhaunted forest than have those chilli fries again.”

“Maybe they were possessed, would explain why they tasted so bad.”

Aleks laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners. He wonders, briefly, if James turned the cameras on so they could use some footage from this stop. In case they don't get much wherever they're going, or so they can include it in a behind-the-scenes episode if they need to. Extra footage is useful, which is something they've learned over the years.

If something's happening, turn the cameras on. Aleks feels like he's spent his whole life like that, with a camera shoved in his face the moment he has something interesting to say or he's in the middle of performing some ridiculous act. Lindsey's the best at that, knowing when to keep the cameras off and when she needs to turn one on immediately; they're lucky to have her.

“You think that's possible? Being possessed?” Aleks asks, prodding at the bruise of James’ sudden disbelief.

“I _want_ to think anything's possible,” James shrugs, “but do I? No. Probably not. Then again, what do I know?”

Aleks squints up at him. “... You're a ghost hunter.”

“They give that title away to anyone now.”

“You're the worst,” Aleks says, for what must be the millionth time today. “Absolute fucking worst, man.”

James looks entirely too proud of himself, and Aleks glances around to check for cameras. They're sitting nearby, turned off, waiting to be switched on at a moment's notice. Aleks swallows and fixates on James, the wrinkles in his jeans from sitting in that car for eight hours, the loose curls slipping from his bun, the scruff of a beard that is recently unkempt, the way his phone lights reflects stars into his eyes.

Underneath his eyes is painfully swollen, like he hasn't been sleeping. Aleks wants to ask about it though he knows he won't, because if there's an issue then James will tell him and because it might not be the best conversation to have in a dusty motel room while half asleep. He'll ask later, when the cameras are off and they're lying in separate beds in an Arizona hotel, either disappointed after filming or riding the high of capturing compelling evidence of ghosts on camera.

It's been far too long since they had the satisfaction of getting something, even at Lindsey's insistence that the dust in the previous episode moved too independently to be dust.

“In the whole world?” He's laughing, like an asshole.

“Yeah,” Aleks confirms.

“Go to sleep,” James says, and Aleks can hear the gentle dismissal in his voice.

Aleks closes his eyes against the afternoon sun filtering into the room and James’ bright bedside lamp, eyes too heavy to consider opening again. He can sleep for a few hours then he'll have to be up and driving, and James will keep him awake with coffee and bad jokes, and Aleks absolutely won't veer them off the road. He'll be rested and too busy laughing to bother thinking about sleeping.

He'll think about pulling the car over, leaning across, closing whatever distance there is between him and James. He'll think about what this means, that he's half asleep with his best friend of six years next to him, and he's wondering if James would kiss back.

If Aleks kissed him, would he still inevitably leave? Maybe he'd shoot this episode then quit, or he'd kiss back and Aleks would forget about even shooting the episode.

Thoughts like this are easier to deal with at home in California, when he's by himself and James isn't within touching distance.

They'll arrive in Arizona and get their episode filmed and done, and then begin the long drive back. It'll take a while but if Aleks concentrates enough, he figures they can be home in California within a few days, trying to decide on where to go next. They'll do what they always do - what they've done for the past three years - and it's a nice thought, as Aleks yawns helplessly once more.

He's never found it easy to fall asleep, nights spent with James in haunted places no exception. Aleks sleeps better when James is around, though. He knows that much. Now is no different, as the bed seems to fall from underneath him.

Outside the sun begins to set, and Aleks’ consciousnesses falls with it.


	2. under the weight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James stares at Aleks for an uncomfortable length of time, as if he wants to speak. 
> 
> Aleks doesn’t give him a chance to, quickly pulling his jacket on over his shirt and settling his sunglasses on his nose, reaching to pile their equipment into his arms. It’s heavy, particularly to Aleks’ sleep-weary arms, but James is there in less than a second to help, adjusting the mess of cameras and wires that are tangled in Aleks’ grip.

Arizona is a terrifying place all on its own, even without the threats of ghosts or demons.

It's warm, too, Aleks notices as they edge closer towards it. He's thankful for the air conditioning in his car, keeping them cool and comfortable. Comfortable enough for James to have fallen asleep somewhere between their last stop for gas and now, his head against the window and his limbs tucked close towards himself.

As far as Aleks can tell, James didn't get any sleep back in the motel. He had this tired look in his face before Aleks fell asleep, and still the very same look when Aleks woke up, hair slightly messy but not from sleep, more in a 'I've been awake for ten hours, in a car for eight, and it's only the afternoon' kind of way. They're all familiar with that, in one way or another. It's a given, really, considering how much time they spend traveling, particularly to far away places.

Aleks caught his own reflection in the car window on their way out of the motel, breathing heavy and equipment weighing them down. His hair was a mess, his eyes tired, and his shirt ruffled from sleep.

James had made a joke with a loud laugh, about how they're messier than they were, going in, and they only stayed for a few hours after lugging cameras up there. Aleks had shaken his head back at him, a self-conscious hand moving to flatten what he could of his own hair, wincing at how desperately he needed to fix it.

They could shower when they got to the hotel they'd planned to meet the others at, which shouldn't be more than a few minutes away now. If Aleks has the address right, that is.

James is the navigator despite how often Aleks catches him looking at maps the wrong way. He always gets them to where they need to be, though, so Aleks can hold his tongue about that; James would sink in his chair and huff if Aleks pointed it out, and Aleks would forget momentarily that James is a couple years off thirty, no longer the twenty-two year old he was when they first met. It's odd, how fast times goes.

In certain circumstances, the passage of time is a reminder of the future, of the uncertainty of the show, of James eventually finding someone, of Aleks having run from his feelings for so long.

None of it matters now, not in the present. They're a problem for Aleks of the future, even if current Aleks’ hands shake uncontrollably at the mere thought of those things. He wants this show forever, he wants James forever, but he's not sure if he could get rid how he feels if he tried. Loving James has been as easy as breathing since they met, shaking clammy hands on the set of a now dead (ha) ghost hunting show in Colorado.

So easy, the initial fall. The meeting James and tucking himself to his side like no one else existed - when they're together, everyone else might as well not exist.

James, undeniably, is the kind of guy who catches everyone's attention the moment he walks in a room. People who don't know him, too. But Aleks knows him, and Aleks searches for him everywhere, and he's lost when James isn't around; it’s something you get used to, James’ presence.

In the passenger seat, James stirs, now half-asleep. Aleks tightens his hands on the steering wheel and glances at him in his peripheral, Aleks’ knuckles white, and the traffic light they're stopped at an unmissable red.

“'Morning, Aurora.”

“Huh?” James murmurs, a lazy hand moving to rub at his eyes. His hair has been ruffled in his sleep, frizzy curls hanging from his bun. Aleks takes one hand off the wheel, not sure what he's intended to do, before James opens his eyes to look at him and Aleks’ hand returns to where it was.

The light turns green and Aleks presses on the gas, offering, “Sleeping Beauty?” as an explanation.

James slides his phone from his pocket then focuses his attention to the road, the weak lights overhead keeping the darkness away. He stares for a while, what just be at least fifteen long seconds, and says, “It's a few hours until midnight.”

“Nothing gets past you,” Aleks jokes, casting a glance at his phone buzzing beside him. “Hey, uh, can you call Brett? Let him know we're a few minutes away and we didn't get - fucking abducted by aliens or whatever. He called while I was driving.”

“Only the once?” James sounds surprised, pushing himself up to a decent sitting position. “Doesn't sound like him.”

“Seven times.”

“Oh… _that_ sounds like him.”

“Yeah.”

James wiggles in his seat to pull his stubborn phone from his pocket, pronouncing it dead when the screen refuses to light up. It's difficult to keep track of these things on the road, even Aleks’ own phone has half the battery, but only because he's been driving and hasn't had much time to look at it. Still, he reaches blindly for it, curls his fingers around it firmly, and holds it out to James beside him.

“Passcode?”

“1-6-9-0,” Aleks answers, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. It's an easy passcode to remember, a birthday of a friend, and Aleks wonders if James will read into it. That his birthday is the first of June, year 1990, and that could very well be Aleks’ passcode. It _is_ Aleks’ passcode. “Brett should be the first contact.”

“Got him, dialling,” James says, pressing the phone to his ear. “Hey, Brett. Aleksandr and I are on our way… he said a few minutes so I'm guessing a few minutes.”

Aleks blocks out the rest of the conversation, focusing on driving and the green light that will be red when they get to it, and how tired they'll be while filming tonight. They could leave it until early tomorrow morning, when it's not twenty past ten at night and they're not all exhausted, but that would mean spending the money on the hotel room for another day, and having to call Alec back in California and let him know they'd be longer than they thought.

Matt's back home sick, which means all their camera work will be on them. Brett and Lindsey will stay at the hotel, making sure the cameras are rolling and the audio's okay, and they'll have to hope it makes a good episode. That it's not a repeat of James’ forest, the majority of the footage them hiking and therefore completely unusable.

It wasn't entertaining and it wasn't fun, and Aleks wants to get this in Arizona over and done with as soon as possible. Thinking about it, even, is tiring. He's antsy, to see Mishka again, and to be somewhere for a few days that isn't behind the wheel of his car for a dozen hours a day. It's taken an entirely too long twelve hours to drive here, plus the added time from stopping to eat and rest.

Today's lasted forever already, it feels.

In the passenger seat, James continues talking to Brett, a conversation Aleks isn't following.

He stops at a red light.

“Alright, man, see you then,” James talks into the phone, a faint hum of Brett's voice audible on the other end. Then to Aleks, “They said they'd meet us at the hotel. It's a left up here, the only one on the block.”

“Sweet.”

Silence falls on them once again, a blanket of white noise and quiet traffic sounds in the distance. Aleks can hear the shuffle of James’ jacket as he shakes it off, because it's warm despite the air conditioner in Aleks’ car doing its best to keep them cool. Arizona is hot, but Aleks hopes that they can be out of here tomorrow, back to California where it's also hot. Very hot. At least in LA, the heat is familiar; it’s Aleks’ home, while Arizona distant, and hot, and an entirely different story.

He turns into a well lit street, one that houses a dozen small shops, and a hotel that is hard to miss. If not for the lights around it, then for Brett and Lindsey standing outside it, taking their bags from the back of a taxi and inside. Neither of them notice Aleks and James driving up, and James points at them, amused.

“I'm glad they're not the ones hunting ghosts,” he laughs. “Can barely see the living.”

“True, dude,” Aleks says, and James places a barely there hand on his shoulder for a moment. “Ready for a good night sleep?”

“Always.”

They park and start the enormous task of unloading their possessions, cameras and sound equipment and bags upon bags of cables. There are a few things Aleks isn't too familiar with, considering the majority of their filming and its kinks is Matt's job, but he's careful with it. James places everything not so gently though, and Aleks watches with an expression he hopes is easy to read.

“What?” James asks when he notices, innocently raising his eyebrows.

“Uh…”

“It's tough, it'll be fine,” James offers, and Aleks tries not to wince.

Aleks hates him. Except he doesn't. He wishes he did, because then maybe he'd be angry that how flippantly James is throwing around their things, their _expensive_ things. He wants to mumble that James is an idiot, or sarcastically raise his own eyebrows and mock James’ last few words, but he can't. James is oblivious to Aleks’ internal struggle, and has the rest of the back of the car cleared out before Aleks can snap himself out of his thoughts.

Nothing's broken, Brett confirms as he helps them lug everything inside the hotel. Lindsey grabs the last bag left before closing the boot and locking Aleks' car behind her, all while Brett grumbles something about being half-asleep and woken up by James' text asking for help.

Lindsey corroborates his story with a shrug when Aleks glances over at her.

They'd slept on the plane for a few hours but the flight was mostly spent awake, she tells Aleks as they take the elevator up to the seventh floor. Mostly, they’re worried about their filming schedule, about the state of things back home, about having to try and make this episode work with no cameraman. Things that wouldn't keep Aleks up, if he was honest, but only because he had worse things that would.

The air in the elevator is suffocating, after so many hours spent in a car. It's stale, tense for no reason, too tight for the four of them with all their possessions. James, especially, with how much he's carrying for no reason other than a small insistence that he knew Aleks couldn't grab it; “You're tired, man, I got it,” he'd said, and Lindsey had smiled at them.

Beside Aleks, Lindsey is swaying uneasily. She doesn't like flying that much, the way it affects her centre of gravity or something. Aleks couldn't recite what she says about it, but she's said it a handful of times, enough for him to know her and flying isn't the best combination.

When Aleks tunes back into the conversation he's missed, Lindsey is talking to James. It's polite small talk, as they're all too tired for anything else. He catches her saying something about being restless the whole flight, the small reflection he can see in the mirrored sides of the elevator revealing James’ small nod in response.

“Join the mile-high club?” Aleks asks, ducking his head with a breathless chuckle. 

“You're disgusting,” Lindsey laughs with a small snort. “No.”

“Does asking that count as workplace harassment?” James pipes in. “Asking personal questions and such. Wanna file a report, Linds?”

“I'll think about it,” she says, laughing again.

Aleks can see how tired she is, in the way her blinks last too long, as if it takes too much to open them once they're shut. And she's laughing. A lot. She's typically happy anyway, and energetic in a way the rest of them aren't, but her exhaustion is undeniable. They're all tired; it comes with traveling and editing and filming constantly, and staying awake until ridiculous hours to shoot at night.

The elevator doors open, all four of them slowly shuffling out. Their steps are so heavy they resound around the halls, James slowly jingling he and Aleks’ hotel room key in his hand. Aleks comes to a stop, and it takes James only a moment to open the door, despite how full his arms are.

“You have two hours,” Brett instructs. “Get some sleep. Both of you. Lindsey and I will come and get you when you need to leave.”

“Thanks,” James smiles, accepting the small embrace Lindsey pulls him into.

“See you soon, I guess,” Aleks says, stifling a yawn. Lindsey hugs him next, warm and stumbling from lack of sleep, and Aleks easily accepts that she takes a little too long to pull herself away. They're all almost falling asleep where they stand, her face apologetic as she moves away.

Her and Brett head to their room with the rest of the equipment as Aleks follows James inside theirs, tripping on his own feet as he does. James laughs without looking, but glances behind for a moment to assess the damage - which, is Aleks, cheeks pink while he attempts to shake off the embarrassment of stumbling over his own feet.

There's two beds, small and clean and each with a decent space between. James collapses on one, mumbling words that Aleks strains to understand but can't really decipher. He did the same thing in the motel, when pushing a conversation about Pennsylvania that didn't make him feel as good as he thought it might've.

“Push the beds together?”

Aleks nods, and James peels himself to his feet to shove the bed he was on into what would presumably be Aleks’ if they slept apart. Big _if_ \- it's a habit now, a comfort that began sometime into their second year as friends and carries into what is now their sixth. And it's not weird because they're friends. It's never been weird.

“You wanna shower first?” James asks, looking up as he adjusts the bedsheets, and it's clear that he doesn't mind either way.

“Yeah, I probably should.”

“Yeah, you probably should,” James says, or mocks, and the gentle smile on his face is one that's reserved only for Aleks. “Go, I'll wait.”

It takes Aleks longer to figure out the shower than it does to actually shower, washing his hair with cheap hotel products and getting rid of the smell of the interior of his car and oily fast food that's stuck to his skin. He's sweaty from the Arizona heat, and his clothes were near impossible to peel off by the time the water in the shower had heated up enough for him to consider getting in; he's miserable, is what he's saying.

The soap smells like lavender and he uses it until it's nothing, crumbling in his hand. He misses his apartment, with his shampoo and his conditioner and his coffee maker and Mishka and Celia and his bed. When he gets home to his apartment, he'll miss the excitement of uncertainty on the road, getting paid to spend time with his friends, time away to relax despite the pressures of filming. He'll miss James, beside him in the car making jokes, in front of him in a diner making fun of salt and pepper shakers, next to him in bed.

Scratch that last one.

He'll miss James and being friends, that's what he's trying to say. Not being together after six years of just that doesn't seem right, feels lonely in a way Aleks can't describe. It's why he got a dog, then a cat, then at some point a girlfriend that he didn't stay with long. She was nice, but she demanded too much, couldn't understand how much time he'd be away, wasn't particularly fond of animals, and wasn't at all like James.

Aleks sighs and turns off the shower, purposefully avoiding eye-contact with the mirror as he shuffles around the bathroom for a towel. It's warm enough that he'll dry if he leaves his bare skin exposed, and warm enough that he briefly considers tugging on only his boxers and crawling into bed, turning the air conditioner up as high as it can possibly go.

There's a cautious knock on the door that startles him as he shakes his wet hair with a towel. He curses but regains himself in time to say, “One minute.”

Aleks remembers, regrettably, that he didn't bother getting clean clothes from his bag before he came here, leaving him with either none or his dirty ones. He leaves them sitting on the floor and tugs his boxers back on lazily; they're clean, at least. And there's no time to bother asking James to grab him a shirt or pants so it's not really as though Aleks has a choice. He can grab some while James is in the shower, anyway.

He heads for the door, awaiting the cool breeze of the air conditioner he can buzzing through the door. James wasted no time getting comfortable, apparently. When Aleks opens the door, that's evident.

James is sitting on a pair of beds that has been made into one, shoes kicked off and jacket discarded next to him. He glances up at Aleks from his phone, probably texting his mum or one of the two employees they had to leave behind in California. He raises a slight, amused eyebrow at Aleks, with his pathetically flat wet hair and exposed body, before dragging himself off the bed.

“Any warm water left?”

“It's a hotel,” Aleks deadpans, as James laughs. He clears his throat, says, “I'd hope so. Just… don't take too long. I'm tired.”

“So?”

“As someone who’s human and fucking _sleeps,_ I wanna turn the lights off. Actually get some shut eye before we have to film. Also, that was one long-ass drive, I’m tired, man.”

James is amused despite the way his expression flickers, then he moves to retrieve his things in a clumsy hurry. Because Aleks asked him to be as quick as he could, and because this conversation is already dying so he might as well escape before it does.

He disappears into the bathroom, the sound of running water muted through the closed door. He doesn't take quite as long in the shower as Aleks does out of it, rummaging through his bag for some clothes to wear while he's asleep and while filming in a couple hours. Most of his clothes are sitting in his drawers in California, both a mistake and a blessing. If he had them, he'd have more variety but not having them means deciding is easier; less to choose from, he just has to settle on whatever.

By the time he's dressed and texting Alec back, James is opening the bathroom door and collapsing into bed beside Aleks.

They don't talk, but James watches Aleks, prompting him to turn off his phone and his bedside table light, and lie down. It's uncomfortably warm even with the air conditioner on, what is bare of Aleks’ skin sticking to the sheets and James close enough for Aleks to feel his breath. They should lie further apart, save each other from one another's body heat, and it doesn't help that James is a furnace.

“Why are you so hot?” Aleks asks, opening one eye to peak at him curiously.

“Genetics,” James replies. Then adds, slightly more serious, “Thought you wanted to sleep?”

“... Shut up.”

James laughs, and it's the last sound Aleks hears before he falls to sleep. It's also the first sound he hears when he begins to wake a few hours later, a measly lamp lighting up the room and Brett's voice audible somewhere underneath James’ loud wheeze.

Aleks can tell without looking or asking that it's near time to go, that he probably only has a couple minutes to get up and dressed and sort out whatever condition his hair is in. He has to look presentable on camera, despite the decrepit place they're going to and how dark it'll be. Not too dark, with their night vision cameras, but enough that Aleks could throw on anything to wear and not really care.

“He ready to go?” Brett asks, and Aleks groans in response.

“It's alive!” Lindsey shouts, laughing.

“I’ll get him up,” and Aleks lazily grasps at the covers as James rips them away. “Meet you outside? Wait for us near the car, we’ll need help setting up the equipment.”

Aleks groans again.

After a debated moment from Brett and Lindsey, they both agree to James’ demand and leave, the door swinging shut with a bang behind them. It’s been only a few hours since Aleks fell asleep and it’s obvious from how heavy his eyelids are, dropping shut again the moment he manages to lift them. The nap was a bad idea in hindsight, but he’s not sure he wouldn’t have collapsed while filming if he hadn’t.

It’s an exhausting night already, and it doesn’t help that he knows what’s going to happen the moment he gets up; get dressed, try and fake an awake smile for the camera being shoved in his face, spend an hour wandering around a crumbling set of buildings, and explain the history of the place to James without messing up the way he usually does. Then, attempt to scrap together enough footage on their own to make a forty minute episode out of, hoping it’s good and they can continue getting views and earning money to afford to do the show.

Somehow, Aleks drags himself out of bed, watching with sleep blurred vision as James pulls on a thin jacket. The equipment they’ll need to take downstairs is sitting in a neat, safe pile, and Aleks briefly catches his reflection in a small mirror on the wall, staring for all the time he needs to realise how much of a mess he is. James doesn’t mind, or doesn’t seem to - he’s tidy, with his hair in a tight bun, lips easily stretching into a small smile when he turns and catches Aleks’ attention on him.

“Ready to catch a ghost?” he asks, and Aleks laughs, breathless and tired. Fond, though. It’s always fond with James. “Or… a demon?”

“Both,” Aleks replies, and it’s easy. To talk to James. The stress and worries of earlier easily melt away, and Aleks finds that his overbearing exhaustion doesn’t seem as bad; still not completely good, but better. “We do a demon a season. I don’t know if there’s actually, like, one here or whatever, but--”

“History of it?”

James turns back away from Aleks before throwing him a pair of his of jeans, ones Aleks doesn’t hesitate to pull on.

“Some demonic activity, the usual,” Aleks offers, eyes flicking over to a camera next to James, the small blinking light giving away that it’s filming their conversation. “I’m hoping to catch a witch. Sources say there are sometimes some there, doing seances and shit. _Cool_ shit.”

“Sources being _Google_?” James asks, eyebrows raised as he gives into the grin tugging at his face.

Aleks looks at him and nods before dragging his attention back to the carpet, ignoring whatever potential conversation there is to begin to put on his shoes. He’s a bit clumsy at it, though the knowledge that he’s being filmed in a situation as mundane as this definitely doesn’t help. Usually, he’d mention to James that he can’t wait to go home, or that he’s worried about how shit this episode will turn out and that no amount of editing will make it interesting to viewers, or that they should consider branching out from ghost hunting and trying something else.

Instead, he doesn’t say anything. He just lazily finishes doing up his laces, reaches for his sunglasses beside him on the bedside table despite how dark it is outside, and makes a few small strides towards his things. He’ll change his shirt and grab a jacket incase, both of which are simple tasks considering how little options he has in the way of clothes. He didn’t exactly bring his whole closet with him, mostly a couple pairs of jeans, a few old shirts to sleep in or wear while driving, and some of the things he typically wears during filming.

“Black jacket _and_ a black shirt? How will I find you if you get lost?”

Aleks shakes his head with a muted laugh, gently elbowing James in the small space between them. “I’m a grown-ass man, maybe I don’t want you to. I’ll find the witch bitches myself.”

“Like you wouldn’t get scared and run back to me,” James snorts.

It’s said so matter-of-factly that Aleks hesitates for a second, pausing in his mission to find a shirt before regaining himself. He would and he knows that, and James knows that, and whoever edits this will see how Aleks fumbles at James saying it.

Aleks is being too obvious, he realises, and quickly tugs at the bottom of his shirt so he can replace it with a clean one and they can go. They can get the fuck out of here and spend an hour chasing their own shadows and then they can come back and sleep until Brett decides they should start driving back to California. But first, he needs to get dressed, and the shirt he’s chosen _is_ black, something from their own merch line that he immediately regrets wearing because he knows James is wearing a similar one.

James stares at Aleks for an uncomfortable length of time, as if he wants to speak.

Aleks doesn’t give him a chance to, quickly pulling his jacket on over his shirt and settling his sunglasses on his nose, reaching to pile their equipment into his arms. It’s heavy, particularly to Aleks’ sleep-weary arms, but James is there in less than a second to help, adjusting the mess of cameras and wires that are tangled in Aleks’ grip.

“You wanna get the door and the elevator, I’ll get the rest.”

“That’s over half of what’s here,” Aleks argues. “Can you even carry all that?”

James’ dismissive, “Aleksandr,” is enough to shut Aleks up.

If Aleks wasn’t so tired, maybe it wouldn’t be; he’d say they should take the same amount and James would agree after some convincing, except Aleks figures he should save what little energy he has for filming tonight. It’s going to be hard without Matt, leaving the responsibility - or burden - of setting up the cameras and making sure everything’s working, and they really can’t afford to fuck this up. They can’t refilm and there probably wouldn’t be enough clips from the investigation to even call it an investigation, just too many shots of them in the car or the hotel, psyching up an episode that will be a huge letdown.

They need a vacation, or Aleks needs one at least. He loves this and his heart is in it one hundred percent, but he can’t help but feel as though James was right when he said they’d get too old eventually, that in a few years the lack of sleep and free time they have will be too much to consider enduring.

Just thinking about it hurts.

True to his word, James grabs the rest of the equipment and hands Aleks the keys so he can lock the door behind them. He also presses the button for the elevator and presses the button inside the elevator, and tries to let not it show how difficult it is to carry all of this when James is beside him carrying more and barely struggling with it. Sometimes he doesn’t seem real, doesn’t seem _human_ ; these days, surrounded by ghosts and demons and maybe’s, a lot of things feel different to Aleks.

Brett and Lindsey are outside, waiting to load what they have into Aleks’ car so they can go back to their hotel room. The warmth from earlier hasn’t wavered much, though Aleks is grateful for his jacket when the first few wisps of cold wind tangle through his hair.

“Got your keys?”

Aleks settles what he’s carrying on the concrete with the rest of their equipment before answering Brett by pulling his car keys from his pocket and tossing them towards him. Brett catches them effortlessly and helps Aleks and James put everything into the back of the car. James is as careless as usual as he half puts down and half throws an expensive recorder onto the floor of Aleks’ car.

Behind him, Lindsey winces.

By the time they’ve packed the car and Aleks has climbed into it behind the wheel, James is settling into the passenger seat. They leave Brett and Lindsey behind, driving slow as to not miss their destination.

It takes a little over fifteen minutes, the domes slowly coming into view. They're scheduled to be knocked down in a couple months and it took a lot of wrangling from Brett to get them in here; Aleks wants it to be worth it, so bad, otherwise _none_ of this would feel worth it.

“So, where are we today?”

“The sight of Arizona's haunted, abandoned domes,” Aleks answers, a quick glance ensuring the camera mounted on the dash is recording. “No one knows exactly why they're here but they were pretty popular with teens and squatters, and there are rumours that witches and devil worshippers would perform rituals here. Bad history, now they're… sitting here, waiting for unsuspecting people like us to visit.”

“Unlucky land.”

“Yeah,” Aleks laughs, “you could say that.”

“Any demons? Or just the usual ghosties?”

Aleks tries to remember the script he wrote for this, his mind scrambling for words as James stares at the road ahead. "I don't think there will be demons, though I'm sure they're going to be absolutely fucking awful, if there is."

"You don't think there are some nice demons?"

Aleks scoffs. "They're demons, dude. They're not _meant_ to be nice."

James raises a hand in mock surrender for one short moment before letting it drop back to his thigh, his eyes still caught on the empty road ahead. "Alright, dude. You reckon they'd like Minecraft? All them demons?" he muses out loud, lips pursing a little as he thinks it over.

“That's the worst question you've ever asked me,” Aleks scowls, ignoring the way James’ face lights up beside him. “‘Do, uh, demons like Minecraft?’ You're an idiot.”

"Aw, I love you too, dude," James winks, smiling so bright it hurts Aleks' eyes just to look at. "I wonder what my mother would think. She must be worried as fuck about me being out in the middle of nowhere hunting demons and ghosts.”

“Is this the kind of place your mom would warn you about? Some creepy ass domes?”

“Yeah,” James laughs, and his brain doesn’t catch up with his mouth as he says, “Would yours?”

Aleks swallows, ignoring the silence and the cameras, and nods. Replies, “Be stupid not to. This place is a fucking dump. I hope you’ve had your tetanus shot.”

Lindsey will edit this part out; Aleks knows she will.

The conversation fades into nothing as Aleks parks his car at their destination. He opens the door slowly to welcome the heat outside, only to be hit with a sudden coolness that bites through even his jacket. The cool air is a nice change, for once, and James notes the same thing as he moves to get out of the car to help with their equipment.

They have cameras to set up, audio devices to assemble, and they need to check in with Lindsey too, to let her know they're still doing alright. Aleks hopes their tired midnight banter is good enough for the cameras, as he moves to pick up the tripods to put inside one of the dome before they can start filming.

Instead, Aleks tightens his hand around the flashlight James passed him, shining it around cautiously. “I’m not exactly digging this place’s vibe.”

“It’s… fancy,” James says, catching up to Aleks. He looks unbothered, as usual, but Aleks knows him well enough to know there’s an internal fear going on somewhere deep down; that there always is, at these places. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

They spend too long organising their things outside, calling Lindsey and Brett to make last minute adjustments and check that their sound is decent. It is, or they say it is, and Aleks chooses to trust them instead of checking everything himself; that'd take too long, and Brett told the owner they'd only need two hours to film.

As if reading Aleks’ mind, James flashes his phone screen into his view, says, “We've been here for half an hour. Might need to rush things a bit.”

“Are the cameras rolling?”

“Yup, go ahead.”

“The Casa Grande Domes in Arizona are supposedly haunted, following their abandonment in the 80’s and the occultists and witchcraft enthusiasts that took up, uh... residence in them shortly after. James and I are here to investigate and see if we can catch any proof of what other people claim to see and hear; tapping on car windows, children screaming or crying, and a mysterious dark shadowy figure that's kinda popular around here.”

“You think the shadowy guy might be a demon?”

Aleks looks at James instead of the camera in his hands. “I don't know. It'd make sense, though. Someone said they haven't seen him since a local priest starting coming onto the land, saying prayers or whatever in the domes.”

“This land is blessed?” There's something unnerving about James’ voice, and he must notice because he quickly adds, “Lessens our chances of getting stuff. Kinda sucks.”

“This land has been exorcised, which means that-”

“A demon can’t step onto it,” James finishes, voice weary.

“Yeah. You should probably, like, step forward towards the domes, prove to our audience you're human.”

“Aleks,” James says, and it sounds like a warning. “I can't.”

“James,” Aleks mocks, shining his flashlight towards James’ face. He manages to keep as still as possible when he catches James’ eyes, how completely and utterly black they look. “Take a step forward. We have about an hour to get this footage, stop being such a pussy.”

“Aleks, I can't.”

Aleks shines his torch towards James’ face again. It's him, Aleks knows that, but the pure black of his eyes is enough to make Aleks question himself. “Just take a step forward.”

“Aleks,” James warns, and it’s James. _This_ is James. “I can’t. You know I can’t.”

“Step. Forward.”

“I can’t, I wish I could, but--,” James says, the expression on his face is so apologetic and fucking _sorry_ that Aleks thinks he might be sick, because it’s been a long time since he last saw James like this. His eyes wide and apologetic and confused, his whole body still and uncomfortable; a long time, like years ago in a hotel room, their friends piled into rooms at their sides, the heaviness of quitting tugging at them.

Aleks reaches to take the camera from James’ hands, cursing himself for not factoring in that James might decide to be scared this episode. They can’t afford to have interruptions like this, not with so little time, and Aleks’ pulse already jumped at the thought of entering the dome. Going into it alone is a terrifying concept, and now a terrifying reality, and Aleks can think of almost nothing worse than this, considering how many horror stories he’s heard about these domes and their inhabitants.

“Then stay,” Aleks says, ignoring James’ expression of protest. “Try and get some cool shots of me entering, see if you can find anything interesting around here. I’ll go inside, have a look ‘round. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” James replies, unsure. He looks oddly out of place now, camera in his hands, standing just on the outskirts of the dome. “How long do you need?”

“Fifteen minutes each, maybe more. Give me an hour?” Aleks says, wishing he hadn't. The domes are increasingly more terrifying at night, especially when it's as late as it is now. The photos of them in the daytime did not do them justice, not with how large they are or how generously creepy the atmosphere is. And something doesn't seem right, _really_ doesn't seem right at all.

Aleks chalks it down to the dark, to how James is being a coward and sacrificing their show because he doesn't want to come in. Aleks knew he didn't want to do the show anymore, he just didn't think he'd up and decide tonight that Aleks should do it on his own. Matt isn't here to film either, so this entire episode is a burden on Aleks’ shoulders.

When he takes his first step inside, he’s shaking so bad he can’t keep his light or camera still enough to look directly to his left, where he can hear a rustling. He debunks it as an animal, something small so as to be hard to see at night. Really, this place is worse inside than outside, the whistling of the wind echoing around the dome. In a way it's cool; it reminds Aleks of when he and James were still with their old show, of the night they spent at the Winchester house whispering in the dark of a room and hearing their voice vibrate back to their ears. James wasn't scared them, hand in Aleks’ so they didn't lose each other, smiles wide and air around them cold.

Aleks misses the early days, if he's honest. James wasn't scared then, not like he is now.

“Aleks?”

Despite how far away James is, his shout echoes around the dome. The longer it echoes, the less it sounds like him. But Aleks is paranoid and tired, and doesn't look behind him when he thinks he's being watched. It's that animal from the bush, watching him because it's scared, or James has decided that sending Aleks somewhere like this isn’t fair and he’s come to join him.

"Filming!" Aleks calls back, ignoring the harsh wind against his back, whipping his hair uncomfortably into his face. It’s been a while since he decided to stop bleaching it, but the ends are blond, still, and it reminds him back when he first met James, or when he tried finding something- some _one_ \- but somehow ended up where he’s afraid he might always be. In love with James, undeniably and depressingly so. The love part, the feeling of it, he can live with-- it’s the _in_ love, the unreturning of it, that he can’t.

The breeze shakes Aleks back into himself, to the horrifying reality he’s currently trapped in. He strains his ears, hoping to hear James’ reply or maybe his footsteps, and he doesn’t bother thinking for a second how they’ll explain his solitude to their audience.

Except, Aleks hears a voice, one that isn't his or James’.

He replies back, hoping it’s the wind; it isn’t, not the way it speaks or repeats his name back to him, or warns him of something he can hear approaching his back.

Aleks turns, taking in the sight of James stepping into the dome, the gentle tap of his foot on the concrete floor echoing around. James puts a hand on the wall, steadying himself, and Aleks pays no attention to James’ eyes, how brown and warm they are. Or he tries not to, but they’re watching him, so brown and so warm, and Aleks thinks back to how close he’s been in the past to drowning in them; years and years of staring into them, trying not to fall despite how impossible it’s proven to be.

Aleks tries to be as nice as possible when he speaks, but there’s a roughness to his voice that he doesn’t try to get. It happens, the same way his feet automatically carry him towards James. “Finally got over yourself?” he says, more for the camera than anything else; this is his thing, this is his shtick. Underneath the words, he’s asking James if he’s okay.

The stress and worry and anger and hurt he feels begins to melt away a little, close enough now that he can hear James’ breathing over the wind battering them. And he steps close to James, thrusts the recorder out towards him instead of hiding it the way he thinks he should, considering how hesitant James was to come in here. James takes it, though, and presses play and rewind, expression unreadable in the dark.

Amongst the quiet of the recording, Aleks hears himself speak and it’s easy to see how James stiffens when, _‘You brought one with you,’_ plays, then again, then again. James continues to rewind it, repeating the few words until Aleks has had enough and takes the recorder from him, pausing it.

“That’s a spirit,” Aleks says. “A real life fuckin’ spirit, dude.”

“I couldn’t hear anyone but you,” James shrugs, shattering the quiet and Aleks’ heart all in one.

Aleks stares, waiting for James to say he’s joking or to apologise, but after a moment the silence becomes too deafening. “For real?” he says, not for the camera this time. Definitely not for the camera. “For real fuckin’ real, James?”

“I couldn’t hear it, man. What should I say? You want me to _lie_?”

Aleks tries to not let this get to him, he really does, but it’s hard to ignore - like it’s hard to ignore that James wasn’t willing to do this investigation, and it was only earlier today that he said he didn’t want to do this anymore. He’s about to tell James that maybe he should reconsider all this, if he really wants to do it, when Aleks looks up and notices the blood trickling from James’ nose. He immediately reaches into his pocket for a napkin, holding it up to James’ face without a second thought.

“You get nose bleeds?” he asks, and James’ expression twists into confusion. He takes Aleks hand and pulls it back to examine the napkin, the red stained into the tissue.

“No,” he admits, and Aleks knows it’s the truth. “Guess I do now, though. Didn’t notice.”

“Maybe, uh, get that checked out? Your choice, but… you know. Big yikes, my dude.”

James winces before smiling a little, swallowing harsh for a moment with his hand unmoving where it’s gently wrapped around Aleks’ wrist. “Sorry I pussied out, of the domes and all. Just didn’t feel right, man--still doesn’t. I can’t wait to get the fuck out of here and go back to the hotel. Tell Brett and Lindsey what a shithole it was.”

“Yeah, well… thanks. This episode will end up great, lots of footage for sure,” Aleks responds, a bitterness he doesn’t mean sneaking into his tone. “I - what the fuck was that back there, with the not coming with me? If you were scared, you could’ve just said. Instead of making me go in here alone, looking like an idiot talking to a ghost you don’t believe I spoke to.”

“I didn’t say that,” James says carefully. “I said I didn’t _hear_ it, not that it wasn’t there.”

“What’s the fucking difference?”

“The difference is that I believe you spoke to something, because I trust you, but I couldn’t hear it on the recorder. What’s the big deal, anyway? Lindsey will edit the footage when we get back to L.A, enhance it and then you’ll get your proof. The audience will-”

“This isn’t about the fucking audience believing me,” Aleks says, because it isn’t about the audience. None of this has ever been about the audience.

James looks tired, of this conversation and the position they're in. It's the sad sort of tired though, an exhausted kind of tired that speaks in volume of how sorry he is. Aleks is aware of how awkward this situation has become, his hand delicately pressed to James’ nose, their argument at some minute past one in the morning inside a supposedly ghost-infested building. He didn’t mean to yell, that’s true, and he knows that what James said is also true; that he trusts Aleks and believes he spoke to something.

James is a pain in the ass sometimes but he’s a good friend.

“Then what, Aleksandr?” James argues, taking a small step forward. “You really care this much that I couldn’t hear your ghost friend on the recording?”

“The ghost said I had a demon,” Aleks counters, as if it’s important. James looks shaken, worried in a way, but he doesn’t waver where he is, just drops his gaze to the floor and exhales, eyes closed. “You’ll hear that later, and so will Lindsey and the rest of our audience. _A demon_. You don’t think that’s some… cause for fucking concern or something? Because that has me pretty fucking concerned.”

“I think you’re safe.”

“Or I’m lying?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It was _implied."_

Aleks lowers the napkin so he can turn and walk out of here, to run back to his car and drive until the domes are no longer apparent in his rear mirror. James still has a hold on his wrist, though, cool fingers wrapping gently around his skin, and he doesn't let go when Aleks tries to tug his hand back, not when he looks up at Aleks and his eyes are pleading for something Aleks can't quite name. So, Aleks stays, despite not knowing exactly where this is going or when James will make the decision to finish packing up and leave to get some sleep at the hotel.

The environment around them is too quiet, save for the whistle of the cold breeze and their own breaths. It’s dangerous, their hesitancy; when they were with Jordan, they used to whisper about running away together one day, just packing their things and leaving. Eventually they did that, which is how they ended up here in Arizona hunting ghosts, chasing what-if’s, ignoring the change in the empty space between them.

“I love you,” James says, and Aleks looks away from him, shakily offers, “Yeah, L word right back at you.”

James laughs, fond and soft. It’s endearing in the same way it’s painful, the familiarity of it all. Aleks has heard that same laugh a hundred dozen times, either loud in everyone’s ears or muffled into Aleks’ shirt. Every moment right now reminds him of how easy it would be to kiss the air from James’ lungs, to close this impossible distance and meld this friendship of theirs into something that resembles the relationship Aleks wants.

The relationship he isn’t sure he’s always wanted, not when he was younger anyway, but it’s been a handful of years since the first time he looked at James as something more than what they are, since he realised he wanted that something more. That impossible, forbidden, something more. The one Aleks sees but James doesn’t, and the one Lindsey is aware and supportive of but Brett disregards because this is a business and it values professionalism.

Brett’s the smart one; even Lindsey, who stares at James and Aleks together with a gaze unreadable, has her mind clouded by illusions. Some people aren’t meant to be, in the same way co-workers aren’t supposed to date. It’s not fair, really-- it’s part of why Anna left, Aleks thinks sometimes. She loved Lindsey but it wouldn’t work so she left, sudden and quick and impossible to say goodbye to in the way she deserved. Now she’s gone, and now Brett and Lindsey linger around each other in a way Aleks recognises.

He does the same with James, that linger. The almost touches and stolen glances and _lingering._ Aleks isn’t going to be the one to ruin this, though, because he’s loved James for years and he can pretend everything’s fine until the day he dies if he has to. He isn’t going to be the one to ruin this, not when James is already so close to being done with the show and leaving, abandoning Aleks the same way James abandoned Jordan and Dan and everyone else with them. The same way Aleks turned his back on them because James asked him to.

They had to leave. That’s not the point, but they had to.

So, Aleks doesn’t kiss James, the same way he doesn’t think about coincidences. There are too many signs that he refuses to see, too many events and moments that continue to bleed into one another - the words resting at the back of his mind, and the Google searches sitting in his history, and the things he knows that he wants to pretend he doesn’t.

The ghost and its warning, its _run_ , its _you brought one with you._

James and his _I can’t, you know I can’t._

Aleks and his refusal to think about it.

“Let’s go,” James says.

“Let’s go,” Aleks agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ♡.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments appreciated  ♡.
> 
>   _links:_  
>  personal tumblr [here](http://gavinsaleks.tumblr.com) !  
> cowchop sideblog [here](http://linzbots.tumblr.com) !  
> writing sideblog [here](http://fakespoetry.tumblr.com) !
> 
> ♡.


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